


The Hardest Part of This is Leaving You

by neuroticscales



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cancer, Death, Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2373350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroticscales/pseuds/neuroticscales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The news shattered you when you heard it. You crumpled to the floor and sobbed, not giving a fuck about how pathetic you looked because your brother was going to die. I have cancer. The three tiny words crushed you, especially since they fell from the mouth of someone you love. Cancer. It seems so far away when you hear about some washed-up celebrity dying from it on the news. Now it was your life. Your washed-up celebrity brother who’s the best damn thing in your life. The only good thing left was going to be gone. Forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Part of This is Leaving You

**Author's Note:**

> Attention everyone! This is a very emotional story. I would not recommend reading it if you think you won't be able to handle it. I am trying to keep it as "real" as possible, so it will have quite dark themes. Please do not read if you suffer from emetophobia, coprophobia, or anything like that.
> 
> And if you keep scrolling after that message, good luck!

The news shattered you when you heard it. You crumpled to the floor and sobbed, not giving a fuck about how pathetic you looked because your brother was going to die. _I have cancer._ The three tiny words crushed you, especially since they fell from the mouth of someone you love. Cancer. It seems so far away when you hear about some washed-up celebrity dying from it on the news. Now it was your life. _Your_ washed-up celebrity brother who’s the best damn thing in your life. The only good thing left was going to be gone. Forever. Jesus fuck, you wish it were you. That’s all you wanted. Bro could go on without you. He had his own life, his own hobbies, his own friends. You could die and it wouldn’t matter to you, or anyone else. Except Bro. He was the only one who loved you anymore and you would be leaving him. Why couldn’t neither of you die? How was this fair? Cancer could’ve struck a pedophile, a rapist, but no. It hit your brother who hadn’t done one thing to deserve it.

 

It was leukemia. Stage 3, untreatable. Hadn’t been caught soon enough and was already running through his bloodstream. God. What were you going to do?

 

\-----

 

“How nasty do I look, lil man?” Bro asked before lifting a plastic cup of water to his lips. You laughed dryly.

 

“Pretty nasty. So, not much different from how you always look.” He laughed, dry and raspy, before lurching forward and grabbing his bedpan to throw up into it. You winced as you heard the vomit roar from his throat and hit the pan with a sickening squelch. He set it back down on his tray and slumped back onto the bed, looking defeated. His face contorted and he suddenly writhed around on his bed.

 

“Are you okay? Should I call a nurse?” you asked frantically, getting ready to press the help button on his bedside remote.

 

“No, no. I’m fine. Just exploding out of both ends, is all,” he replied with a grimace. You murmured a response and slunk back into your chair beside him.

 

“Do you still want me to call a nurse? To help with the…,” you didn’t really know how to word it nicely.

 

“To help with the shit propelling itself top speed from my ass? No thanks.” He tried to lift himself from the bed, but lowered himself back down with a scowl. “Fine, whatever. I’m a public embarrassment. Let’s all laugh at the incontinent man.”

 

“No one is laughing at you,” you replied, calling a nurse with the remote. “It’s fine. They understand. Less than a minute later, a nurse peeked her head through the doorframe.

 

“Hello!” she said in the trademark health professional voice of _I don’t give a fuck about you, but I have to pretend to._ “What do you need help with, Mr. Strider?”

 

“I shit the bed,” Bro replied, still in his monotonous tone. Her smile cracked but didn’t fade entirely.

 

“Oh, that’s okay! Let’s get you to the showers- everything’s gonna be fine.” She crossed over to Bro’s bed and helped lift him up out of it. _She must be stronger than she looks,_ you thought. Bro grumbled a “sorry” when he stumbled a bit and the nurse spat out so many “it’s fine!”s you would think it was going out of style. As they left, you sat in a chair and forced yourself not to look at the stained bedspread.

 

It had only been two weeks, and Bro was already so… sad. Well, who wouldn’t be sad in his situation? But just seeing your Bro like this was too much to handle. He was already losing weight- his face lacked the stoic tightness that had always been there. He threw up constantly. The one thing he hadn’t lost was his sense of humor. Thank god. Neither of you would be able to handle that. You sat with your head in your hands until they came back.

 

“I’m _fine_ , just get off of me,” you heard Bro snap from the hallway. He limped in with his IV pole and threw himself onto the bed. The nurse flew in behind him, her hair and clothes a mess.

 

“I think we’re fine now,” you said. “Thanks.” She nodded and quickly exited the room.

 

“Lemme tell you, Dave. Having your junk washed by some random woman is not as great as you think it would be.” You grinned awkwardly.

 

“At least you’re clean…?” He scoffed bitterly.

 

“I guess.” You’re both quiet for a few minutes, stewing in your own emotions.

 

“Hey Bro?”

 

“Yeah?” he asks before launching into a coughing fit. You rush over to sit on the bed next to him and put your hand over his.

 

“I love you.” He cradles your hand in both of his, tears running down his face.

 

“I love you too.”

 

 


End file.
